To the depths
by CaptainMatick
Summary: For 300 years, Killian Jones has been cursed as the guardian of Davy Jones' Locker, forced to help the dead find their way to the other world. Emma Swan is a 28-years-old orphan, victim of a shipwreck and he can't bring himself to let her drown. She's looking for answers about her parents, he still wants his revenge. The road they're taking is dangerous and full of surprises.


**CHAPTER 1**

_"NO!"_

_He screamed, all the air leaving his lungs, his throat burning. That couldn't be happening. That bloody crocodile couldn't have done that. He couldn't have crushed her heart. Tears started to gather in his eyes as he looked at his lover who was falling to the ground. The bonds around him loosened from his struggling, and he rushed forward and kneeled beside her, holding her head on his lap, her dark curls spread around her like a halo._

_"I love you," the words left her, life escaping her very soul, her usually bright blue eyes becoming dull and glassy. No mattered how hard he tried, the words he so desperately wanted to say back to her—the only thing that mattered, that he loved her—stuck in his throat, unable to find a way around the horror blocking them in. The pirate's stare remained focused on her, salty liquid gleaming in his eyes but not falling down his skin, as the woman in his arms passed away._

_He gulped hard, her limp, lifeless body still laying down on his knees, swallowing back the tears and remembering that her assassin was still there, on his ship, a dark chuckle slipping out of his throat when he saw how desperate was the pirate in front of him. "You may be more powerful now, Demon, but you're no less a coward!"_

_"She left our son and me. She deserved to die." the Dark One stated with a sadistic cackle._

_Killian remembered the weak man, limping and holding onto his wooden stick as he had at the tavern the night he had met Milah. That man didn't exist anymore. Now there was only a bloody monster who had just murdered his own wife, crushing her heart in front of him._

_"I'm going to kill you, " Killian shouted, anger boiling in his veins as he approached the dangerous man whose skin looked like it was made of scales._

_"I'd like to watch you try," the green man squawked, showing his yellow teeth in a menacing smirk. Killian spotted a hook that had fallen on the deck when the warlock had thrown him away from Milah. Moving quickly, he caught it and buried it in the crocodile's chest. The other man – if you could call that monster a man – didn't seem hurt at all. He wasn't even bleeding._

_"Oh, killing me is going to take a lot more than that, dearie."_

_The Dark One raised Killian's chin with his sword, the blade pressing into his skin enough to draw blood. Killian swallowed hard and tried to steady his breath. His death was coming. "Go on. I'm ready for the sword."_

_Another dark chuckle came out of the other man's mouth. "Oh no, I'm afraid that's not in the cards for you, dearie. I want you to live because I want you to suffer, like I did."_

_He let go of Killian's throat and with a quick motion of his wrist, cut his left hand off – the pirate fell back on his knees, hissing in pain, the tears still threatening to stream down his cheeks, then jumped fiercely on his feet to face his opponent. Rumplestiltskin motioned his hands as he explained his intentions. "What about an eternity of mourning and solitude?" The mischievous gleam in his eyes forced Killian's heart to skip a beat._

_" Yes. I like this idea." The Dark One went on, taking a step closer to the pirate, not bothering about the rest of the crew who was watching the scene playing in front of their eyes, terrorized by the Crocodile's reputation. "Davy Jones' Locker. The bottom of the ocean. You, pirate," he pointed the tip of the sword at Killian's chest, "are going to spend the eternity roaming on the ocean, welcoming the souls of the dead sailors, lost at sea. Every time you'll go to the bottom of the sea, you'll be able to see the face of your precious dead Milah, constantly suffering that loss." He declared, taking pleasure where he caused Killian pain. "This is your curse, sunny boy."_

_Before Killian could assault him again or flee or even take another breath, the Crocodile snapped his fingers and everything went black._

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

She was running. _Again._ Well, she'd been running all her life, trying to escape the guards after she'd robbed a castle or the baker for stealing some bread. Emma's life was a constant and eternal run. She had gained endurance and hardened her mind.

Her survival skills had saved her more than once, and had helped her escape the direst situations. Because Emma Swan seemed to draw danger toward her. She could never rest, everyday was a fight, and one she was determined to win.

If there was one word to describe Emma Swan, that would be _wild._ Emma Swan was a twenty-eight-year-old woman, daring and fierce and free like the wind. She was strong-willed and had the charisma of a leader.

Her long hair fell in a cascade of blonde curls on her back, bouncing with each of her movements, and her green eyes were gleaming with the sparks of a bold fire inside of them. She was certainly a beauty. Not that she wanted to rely on her good looks. Not that she cared about that either. Of course, she could use them to take advantage of some situations – and she had, more than once – but that wasn't her best weapon. _Her fighting skills were._

She always wore her sword at her belt, a dagger hidden in her leather boot, and she was a good shooter if you gave her a bow or a crossbow. She had acquired those different skills through the years, based on people she'd shared meals with.

Beyond that, though, there wasn't a lot to say about Emma. She didn't know her parents, was permanently in the quest of finding them – she often told herself that it was useless, if they had abandoned her, they didn't want her – because she wanted to know why. Why she had been left on the side of a road in a forest, why they had been the first to leave her behind, why she wasn't good enough to be held and loved by her own parents.

She'd probably kill them after that, because she couldn't even see a reason to leave your own child. Especially alone in the woods, where there were wolves. They could have at least brought her to an orphanage. She would have grown up surrounded by lots of other kids like her, who would have understood her and maybe even loved her, become friends with her.

Instead she'd spent the first five years of her life living in a farm, not far from where she had been found. The farmer and his wife who had taken her to their small cabin were kind, but not compassionate. They'd always wanted a child, but figured out not long after taking her in what actually raising a little girl meant.

A three-year-old kid, who had just learnt how to walk, shouldn't be forced to feed the hens, and especially the rooster. She shouldn't have had to brush the cows whose weights were twenty times taller than her either. (Or, at least they appeared that monstrously big to someone who was barely able to reach their backs, even when she stood on a stool.) But even worse were the geese. Twenty-five years later, Emma still had the scars made by their beaks printed on her skin.

She had had a hard life at the farm, and the couple barely had enough money and crops to feed her as well. Malnourished, uncherished and exhausted, the five-year-old Emma Swan stole for the first time; the old stallion of the farmers. _It also was the first time she had started running._

_And after that, she'd never stopped._

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

_300 years._

It'd been 300 years. Three centuries of wandering, of despair, of solitude. He had spent all this time on his ghost ship with no crew, no company. _Only the dead._

His Jolly Roger was no longer what she used to be when he was alive. His world was grey and dull, no light, no escape, no taste, no cure. He was alone for eternity. He was cursed and trapped between the world of the living and the kingdom of the dead. They came from everywhere, not just the sea. Every soul that had ever spent time on the living ground landed here, in the depth of the sea, where he kept a tired eye on them.

He was seeing her face everyday, continuous chastisement, continuous pain. The memories of her had faded with time, but he could still remember the pure terror she had felt when her heart had been crushed, and the unconditional hatred he had felt toward the Crocodile who had murdered her and cursed him.

If he ever found a way to take his revenge, he would bloody well take it and hunt him down. He knew that demon was still alive. During his lifetime, he had heard stories in some crowded taverns about the Dark One and his immortality. Some people said he was invincible. Some others were too frightened to dare talk about him.

Killian ran his hand through his hair in frustration. With his other, he used the hook to steer the helm of his ship aimlessly along the waves, the fog never leaving him.

He had gotten used to it, but at the beginning, the gloomy atmosphere he was always bringing with him had made chills run down his spine. He didn't even know if living people were able to see him, if they could see their death coming as he sailed toward them quickly. The healthy living could not see him, he knew that, but maybe the ones about to die could. He wondered what it felt like, dying. Sensing the cold, the sharp pain. Smelling the disgusting smell of the other world. He wasn't even sure if people could be aware of their death, just like he hadn't been aware of his semi-death. Just a snap of his fingers. _That was it. _

He had woken up at the bottom of the sea. His ship beneath his feet. A sailing ship swallowed by the depths, the irony. He had seen the lifeless bodies of the recent dead sailors – his crew – and his pale Milah. Acting by instinct, he had allowed them to pass into the otherworld. They had seemed to come back to life, and his heart had beaten fast, his eyes had shone with hope, just before he realized that his friends and lover couldn't speak. He wasn't even sure they had the slightest bit of a consciousness in their core.

He had cried for days, stopping only to welcome more corpses, helping them go in peace into the afterlife. He had mourned as well, his despair and anger and fear of loneliness never leaving him. He wished he had died along with them. He wished he was reunited with Milah, at last.

Over the years, he had gotten used to his semi-alive, semi-dead state. At least, he still had the Jolly, his home. _But he wanted his revenge upon Rumplestiltskin._ He wanted to avenge his dead love along with the loss of his hand and his crew.

However he knew that it would never be possible. It would take him weeks, maybe months, to locate his worst enemy, and he was only allowed to spend one day in the living world, every ten years. That had never been and would never be enough to find him and then think of a way to kill him. He had tried, in the beginning, during the few decades. With no results, no success. No way to find him nor to find a way to kill him. So he had just given up. Hoping that he would find a way to end his malediction for good.

As if there could ever be one.

He was alone.

_Forever._

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Emma hid in an overcrowded tavern filled with pirates and all kind of sailors who were cheering, singing and drinking, and made her way toward the counter, jumping over it and sitting behind. She was panting: she had been running for hours in the forest and then the port town.

"Who are you?" a female voice came from her side. Emma hadn't noticed the dark-haired waitress at first.

"No one." Emma hissed in a whisper. She shouldn't talk, she could be spotted if she did.

The woman raised an eyebrow incredulously, a bit taken aback by the daring of the blonde woman who was kneeling in front of her. "Are you kidding me? Get the hell out of here!"

"Shhhh!" Emma gestured with her hands, begging her to lower her voice. "I'm hiding," she finally muttered, raising her head to glance quickly above the counter. The men who were tracking her had entered the pub.

"Yeah, thanks, I noticed." The woman looked at the men who were looking to their left then to their right, probably looking for the blonde. "I could tell them you're here, so you better tell me why the hell they're chasing you." Emma nodded reluctantly. When the brunette was sure no one was peering in their direction, she opened the back door that led to the kitchen and invited Emma to come with her, which she did as quickly as she could.

The door locked behind her. The waitress looked past Emma's shoulder, telling another waitress – Ella was her name - to take her place behind the counter while she dealt with the runaway. She led Emma to another room, smaller. Now that they were alone, the brunette crossed her arms . "So. Why were they after you?"

"I stole something from them." Emma replied, annoyed. The shorter the answer, the better.

"What's your name?"

"Emma."

"No last name?" The waitress cocked an eyebrow suspiciously.

"Not if there is no need to give it."

"Very well. Your first name's enough. Mine is Ruby, Ruby Lucas." Emma wanted to retort haughtily that she didn't give a damn, but then she remembered that Ruby could still turn her in. And Emma was done with going to prison. "What did you steal from them?"

"None of your business." Emma looked away, gritting her teeth.

Ruby noticed that Emma was wearing a bag. She grabbed it and opened it before Emma could move her little finger. "Ah, ah!" the brunette warned as Emma started to pull her purse back toward her. "Tell me what you stole and I'll let you go."

"Why are you so eager to know?" Emma snorted, clenching her teeth. She didn't want people to know that she was back to stealing food because she had to save her money for something else, for her ticket to freedom.

The waitress shrugged. "No particular reason. Just like to know why people end up in my tavern, especially if they hide behind the counter. Or, I could tell them you're here."

"Alright," this came out more like a growl than a sigh, "I stole food. Happy?"

"When I shook your bag, I swear I heard a clang. You've got money in there. Why not using it to buy food instead of robbing it?" Ruby's arms were still crossed over her chest and she frowned.

"Because I need my money to buy my place on a merchant ship so I can go far from here." Emma's words left her tongue before she could even think about it, and she hated herself for telling the other woman. "Now if you'll excuse me. I have to go."

"Sure." Emma's hand pushed Ruby shoulder slightly so she could walk away, but Ruby caught her by the wrist, shaking her head. "Come with me, I'll show you a better way. They won't see you escape and you'll just have to go forward to reach the harbor." She winked at her, a smile playing on her lips.

Emma followed her, still wary. "Why are you helping me?" As they reached the back door, Ruby turned around to face her. "Because I wish I could leave too. I want to live adventures, not spend my whole life in this damn bar full of stinking men. I want to see the world. So I won't stop you in your quest to step onto a ship and flee."

Emma smiled back at Ruby, who hugged her. Well, that was... unexpected. And _weird_.

"Why don't you come with me?" The blonde asked, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, surprising even herself.

"I can't." Ruby shrugged slightly. "Granny won't let me. But if one day, you come back here, promise me to visit me at the bar. I'll want to hear about everything you've lived."

"Of course." Emma nodded and then exited the bar, as Ruby let her go and went back to the counter, catching sight of the runaway one last time, hoping she would keep her promise in mind. In the meantime, she would keep the men occupied to give Emma enough time to board a ship and leave.

Emma made her way toward the docks, where she noticed a majestic three-mast ship whose flag displayed the emblem of the merchant ships of this kingdom. _Good._ Now she just had to give money and hope they would accept her on board. She would tell the captain about her skills and show that she could be useful – as long as they wouldn't attack her dignity.

To be woman on a ship could easily be dangerous, but she trusted her agility and skills. She could always steal a barque and escape.

She headed toward the ship and walked onto the deck, looking for the captain. He was talking to his bosun actively, probably commanding him to hasten the supplying of wares onto the ship. When he saw her he seemed perturbed. "What are you doing aboard my ship?" His bosun left them alone and started yelling orders at the seamen.

She took out the purse full of money from her bag, handing it to him. "I want a cabin aboard your ship, and a safe passage out of town." Her tone was firm and commanding, but the old man didn't seem impressed.

"No." He gave her back her money. "We don't take women aboard. It brings misfortune to the crew. Davy Jones won't take me to his place on this journey. So no. Find another ship." Emma rolled her eyes. She had heard the story of Davy Jones' Locker, the Sea God who was burdened with the task to help the dead souls to go to the other world, but she wasn't superstitious. _She didn't believe in him_.

If the captain of the ship didn't want her to come aboard, she would just sneak in and hide during the travel. She was furtive and fast enough to go unnoticed if she had to. She sighed, feigning disappointment and dropping her eyes to the planks of the deck to hide the mischievous gleam in her eyes behind her long dark lashes, then stepped away.

She heard that the departure would be at dawn. She decided quickly. At night, she would slip onto the ship discretely. And she would be aboard as they set sail.

_Her real adventure started now._

* * *

**Okay so here it is. My new fanfiction!  
Hope you enjoyed the first chapter... Do you think it's worth another chapter?**

**Feel free to let a review~ **


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